Demon Hunter: Roronoa Zoro
by MerryAnchor16
Summary: Zoro is a normal human. Sanji is a Shinigami. What will happen when a powerful sword and a legend cause their paths to cross? Modern AU. Rated T for language and violence. Rating might go up in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"When I beheld him in the desert vast,

'Have pity on me,' unto him I cried,

'Whiche'er thou art, or shade or real man!'"

Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto I

* * *

There is, between Heaven and Hell, a world. And this world is inhabited by billions of beings called 'man'. They are a simple group of beings, content with materialistic items- especially the one they call 'money'- and live out their short lives with blissful ignorance. They call their world 'Earth'.

Now it's on this Earth, in a place called 'London', that our story begins. It starts somewhere of little signifigance, just a liesure centre, but in that building is a man. He is twenty one, tall and muscular with green hair. At this very moment he is cooling down, chugging a bottle of water before pulling away to pant heavily. He is the only one in the room and it is a late evening in summer so there is still a little sunlight left outside. In about ten minutes he will walk out of the gym and walk home. Ten minutes after leaving he will arrive home shutting and locking the door behind him. Five minutes after there will be a knock at the door.

And then this man's life will change forever.

* * *

Sanji bristled visibly as another groan vibrated next to his ear. The sand beneath him was hot from the scorching sun and the rock he was leaning back against was rigid and crumbly, lumps and angles of it sticking in his skin and rubbing against his two wings irritably. He flicked one out and brushed his hand over the velvety flesh stretched over bone, knocking up plumes of dust and dirt. Satisfied with his cleaning efforts, he folded the black wing back in again and looked back down at the screen in the sand, a bright blue eye scanning the images restlessly. Another groan floated past his ear and he growled,

"Shut up, Luffy. I'm trying to concentrate."

"But I'm boooooooooooored, Sanji!"

The blonde haired Shinigami sighed and looked up at the boy lying on top of the rock. Luffy whined like a pup, chin resting on the surface of the rock with his arms hanging over the edge. The light blue hue that emanated from his skin was barely visible in the brightness of the unforgiving sun, but the fact Sanji could see through him still indacted the boy was a Spirit.

"Look Luffy, I'm really busy. I'm supposed to find-"

"Saaaaaaaaaanji! Purga- Purg... Errrr, Pirgatow... Purrrrrrrrr..." The boy stalled, trying to get out a word that just wouldn't come to him. Sanji sighed,

"Purgatory?" The Shinigami suggested and Luffy nodded quickly.

"Yeah... Purgatory is too booooooooring Sanji. There's nothing to do!"

"That's the point of Purgatory you idiot! It's not meant to be a five star vacation!" Sanji snapped, "Now pay attention! We were both given this job and if I don't find a suitable-"

"How about him, Sanji?" Luffy shouted suddenly, cutting Sanji off mid rant. Luffy had bounded off the rock and was crouched in front of the screen by Sanji's legs, "Oh wow, he's coool! And look, he can use swords too! Look at him Sanji, look!" The boy had snatched the screen out of the sand and thrusted it into Sanji's face, hollering excitedly, "He's the one! Look at him go! He's so much better than the others! Surely he can use it! Please Sanji, please! He's really cooool!"

Sanji pried the screen from the little ghost's fingers and studied Luffy's choice. The man that he saw was sturdy, muscular and strong. He watched as the man drew two bamboo swords from his hip and plunged into a graceful dance, thrusting, slashing and lunging at invisble enemies with rough determination. Slowly, Sanji felt the smile creep onto his face. This was definitely the man he needed. The Shinigami reached behind him, pulling a sword and a scabbard into his lap, and stood up. Luffy smiled widely and began to run circles around him, "Is he good, Sanji? Did I pick the right one, Sanji? Can he use it? Can he use the sword?"

The Shinigami aligned the scabbard to his hip and thigh before strapping the belt tight around his waist. He unfurled his blackened wings, his revealed blue eye glowing bright as he brushed his fingers fondly over the weapon's hilt. He smirked, "I think Kitetsu has found her new Master..." And with that, he dissipated into thin air.

* * *

AN: Um, so, new fic. Just a random idea that came from watching too much One Piece and Deathnote in one week. The quote at the start is from Dante Alighieri's 'Inferno' and it will be frequently used in regards to chapter intros. I'm sorry it's a pretty short chapter but the next one should be a bit longer (:

All reviews and suggestions are much welcome :)


	2. Chapter 2

"He seemed as if against me he were coming

With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,

So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;"

Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto I

* * *

(Earlier that day)

Roronoa Zoro cursed, palms flat on the wall above the toilet and his arms shaking with the effort, "Fuck..."His body was slick with perspiration and his cropped green hair plastered to his scalp. He heaved again, the muscles around his stomach and chest screaming in protest to the point that it became difficult to breath, "Fuuuuuuuuuuck..." He moaned as the last heave sent a wave of pain through his ribs. He flushed the contents away and toppled back against the bath, grasping his head with both hands. He took deliberate, slow breaths, ignoring the sharp and bitter tang of bile in his mouth. 'Just stay calm... She wasn't there... She wasn't,' he informed himself firmly.

He looked at the small clock sitting on the side of the sink. 3 am the little face told him and he groaned loudly, tipping his head back until it struck the tiled wall. He didn't even register the pain, "Shit..." He sat on the floor a while longer, composing himself as the extractor fan hummed in a deep monotone from the ceiling, and slowly picked himself up. He left the bathroom door open wide, allowing the light to spill out down the hallway of the apartment. He left the light on, staggering slightly down the hall as he proceeded to turn on every other lightswitch in the flat. He reached his room and hesitated at the door, hand hovering out in front of him. He sucked in a deep breath before pushing the door open. He flicked on the light instantly, palm striking the switch a little more harshly than he had intended before stepping into the room.

His eyes flickered to the corner by the foot of his bed straight away, "Not there..." He murmured, relief tinging his voice, "Not there..." But he'd been so sure she was there. He'd woken up slightly and had definitely saw a shape at the end of his bed. Immediately his eyes had flown open and she was there, staring at him with dead eyes. 'Why didn't you save me, Zoro? What did I do wrong?' She asked, her lips bloody and her head tilted to the side from her crooked neck, 'Why weren't you there, Zoro? Why?'. It was at that point Zoro had freaked the fuck out and bolted, hand clasped over his mouth to prevent the vomit from spewing out.

Zoro shook his head, snatched the pillow and covers from his bed and slammed the door shut again. He bundled the bed clothes up in his arms and carried them briskly into the sitting room still leaving every light on that he could. He threw the pillow down onto the armchair in the corner of the room and sat down, curling himself up into a tight ball as he brought the covers around him protectively. He screwed his eyes shut tight and brought his knees to his chest. He didn't lull back to sleep but the brightness of his apartment made him feel safer and that, he thought, was all that mattered.

* * *

(Present time)

The weight of the sword was heavy and Zoro held it with a firm grasp. He was the only one left in the martial arts area of the leisure centre and he now had plenty of room to swing the bamboo mock blades. He felt the hilt in his palm, the roughness of the bound fabric to provide extra grip as it scraped the soft skin of his fingers. The texture brought back memories of his childhood that he could never blot out, no matter how hard he tried.

'That's my two thousandth win, Zoro. You'll never beat me!' He flinched as her voice shot through his mind like a bullet at point blank range. He could hear his own voice now, 'Damit! No matter how hard I train she always beats me!'. He grasped the hilt a little tighter and pulled another sword from the barrel. 'You're so lucky you were born a boy, Zoro. I won't be able to use a sword anymore...' Zoro remembered his angry voice yelling at her, 'We'll make a promise! One day, one of us will become the world's greatest swordsman!'

Zoro pulled the hefty bamboo sword from the barrel and weighed it in his palm. He nodded to no one in particular and wandered to the centre of the room, bare feet sinking into the blue crashmats that made up the floor. He stood, back straight, head tilted down to the ground, and spread his legs to sink into a wide stance. He placed one leg slightly behind him, the other in front so that his hips were angled and his weight was spread evenly. He then brought up his arms, his elbows tucked into a slight curve to ensure his arms were not too close to his chest, and twisted his wrists to turn the swords inward, the blades crossing in front of him.

"Nitoryu," He whispered, though his voice travelled further in the empty room, ricocheting off the walls and making it sound louder than he actually intended it to be. The moment his voice bounced back as an echo, Zoro swung, bringing powerful arms down to make a neat 'X' in the air. He pivoted his hips, bringing one sword in to defend his chest whilst the other sweeped a low, graceful arc that would've slashed wide open the shins of any enemy in close proximity. He met this movement with a sharp thrust from the sword protecting his chest which followed through with an upwards flick of his wrist. Zoro knew that move would've ripped a person's body in half up the middle and he allowed himself a small smile for executing it so well. He swung, parried and thrust in smooth, flowing movements, pivoting, dropping and moving position as if he were waltzing and the swords were the beautiful girl he held in his arms.

'She fell down the stairs. It had been raining. She slipped. I'm so sorry, Zoro,' The swordsman staggered back in shock as a memory came flooding back. He growled and regained his footing, bringing up the swords once more and cursed himself for being so easily distracted. He closed his eyes, calming himself, before swinging again and relapsing back into his rhythm. 'NO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME. NOT NOW. WE MADE A PROMISE! YOU CAN'T BACK OUT OF IT!'

Zoro's slashes got faster, his breathing heavier.

'GET UP! I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE! WE MADE A PROMISE! YOU PROMISED ME!' As his younger voice screamed in his head, Zoro roared angrily. He was swinging erratically, his pace gone, his mind a wild mess of fragmented memories and sharp spikes of pain. Adrenaline coarsed his veins and he stopped seeing the room. The crashmats gave way for wooden floorboards and a long, white lumpy sheet. People were grabbing at his arms, trying to pull him back but he fought against them valiantly. He didn't care that they were telling him to stop- to respect the dead- all that mattered was the fact she had broken her promise. She had escaped. She had lied to him. Anger was all he knew as he was roughly dragged away. Tears burned his eyes and made tracks down his reddened cheeks. He hated her. She had failed him. She had left him. All that power, all that skill, and in the end a few wet steps and some rain had killed her.

A sudden crack snapped Zoro back to reality and he stalled, looking down at the broken swords in his hands. His head was pounding, his heart racing and his blood burned in his body. He had broken into a cold sweat and the slickness of his palms caused the broken bamboo blades to slide to the floor. He watched them as they fell, eyes glazed and chest heaving with deep pants. Something hot and wet rolled down his cheek and he swiftly wiped it with the back of a trembling hand. He was crying. He stood up straight and rubbed his eyes furiously until the skin was red and he was certain no more tears would fall. He looked down at the broken swords and picked them up. He slotted the pole that made the hilt back into one, repairing it, but the other was useless, the bamboo splintered into fragments up the one side. He put the one he repaired back into the barrel as he walked over to his bag, keeping the broken one under his arm. He delved inside the rucksack and pulled out a bottle of water, he unscrewed the cap and downed half of it in one go, pulling away to pant heavily again. He poured some of it onto his hair and used his hand to rub the spare droplets down and over his face with a deep sigh. Once he had cooled off a bit, he stuffed the bottle into his back, pulled out his wallet, then slung it over his shoulder quite casually despite the turmoil going on inside his head.

Ten minutes later, after giving his apologies and paying for the damaged sword, Zoro stepped outside. The evening sunlight gilded everything in gold and reflected brightly off the glass windows of the houses, causing dappled patterns on the pavement. Zoro began his walk down the path, head tilted down at the ground beneath him and his feet dragging slightly. The sudden recall of memories and the vision earlier that morning had shook him up bad and his mind was an absolute mess. He tried to focus on something, settling for the rhythm of the rucksack slapping against the small of his back. Thump, thump, thump. The beat was constant and soothing and the repeated pressure on his back reminded him that this was the real world. He carried on walking, legs taking him the memorable route home- it was the only route besides the one to the gym that he could never get lost on, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone ever.

He reached the apartment building about ten minutes later and the sunlight was a little weaker now, the glare of it softened and bathing most of the street and buildings in a pastel wash. He reached the entrance and let himself in, the door hissing as it scraped on the carpet and he wiped his feet. He smiled to Bernadette- an old woman who lived on the ground floor- briefly and walked past the staircase to the elevator, pressing the button in to call it down. A few seconds later, the doors whirred open and he stepped in to the vacant lift. He hit the button for floor 6 and leaned back against the chrome railing as the counter ticked off the floors. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6. The doors dinged open and Zoro hopped out and set off down the hallway until he reached his door, the metal slates- '21b'- gleamed back at him, and he tugged the keys from his front pocket and unlocked the door, stepping in and locking it after him. He turned the lights down the hallway all on but left out the sitting room, the large windows letting in enough light by themselves. He threw his keys in the dish by the door, kicked his shoes into the corner and dumped his bag somewhere he'd already forgotten. The bedsheets and pillow, he remembered, were still on the armchair and he moved over to pick them up, but when he looked at the door to his room he put them back down.

One more night in the chair wouldn't hurt.

He grabbed himself a beer from the fridge, the kitchen wasn't a seperate room but a segment of the sitting room with a decent sized breakfast bar and dark marble worktops. While he grabbed a bottle he looked at the stock of food he had then shook his head, appetite seemingly vanished, and made his way back to his chair. He pulled the covers over him slightly, grabbed the remote and switched on the TV, losing himself into mind numbing drivel and finally settling down for the evening.

He'd pressed the change channel button for the fifty-eighth time when there came a knock at his apartment door. His head jerked up and he realised with surprise that the sitting room was in darkness, the only light coming from the TV and the hallway. Where had all the time gone?

There came a knock again, a bit more forceful this time and Zoro realised he'd been staring dumbly at the door. He stood up quickly, "Shit..." He uttered before calling out, "Wait a minute! I'm coming!"

He heard a sigh of impatience the other side of the door as he left the sitting room, turning on the lights on his way. He unhooked the bolt from the catch and pulled the door open slightly, "Hello?"

If Zoro was being honest, he'd half expected his visitor to be the landlord, come for his rent, or Portgas D Ace- his drinking buddy- to be standing there with his signature goofy grin and a few packs of beer. He actually hoped it would be the latter, he needed some more booze after today- a general buzz just wasn't cutting it. But it was neither. Stood at his door was a man he'd never seen before in his life. He was the same height as Zoro if not a few millimeters taller with ruffled blonde hair and a fringe that flopped over his right eye. A cigarette hung limply from his pinkish lips and a well groomed goatee highlighted his mouth and jaw. Zoro looked him up and down, frowning at the stranger on his doorstep. He was dressed oddly too. He wore no shirt, but a black leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows hung from his shoulders, his right wrist was decorated with a shiny silver bracelet, miniature skulls making up the links and a black choker clung to the flesh of his neck above a set of sienna coloured rosary beads. His legs were clad in deep black denim and with the colour, Zoro could really appreiciate how long they were, they seemed to go on forever, and his feet ended with chunky leather boots decorated with buckles and straps. On his left hip was a rectangular shape secured with a belt. The man had one hand in his pocket, though Zoro couldn't see how considering just how tight those jeans were, and a pale thumb was playing with the silver chain that hung from the belt loops.

Zoro looked up to meet a vividly blue eye staring back at him with amusement. It was then that Zoro saw the most distinguishable thing about this man.

His eyebrow.

It was darker than his hair colour but ran in a fine line before ending in a swirl near the top of his nose . The man took the cigarette from his mouth and crushed the butt of it in his pale hands, he then spoke in a smooth baritone voice,

"Good evening, Roronoa Zoro. May I come in?"

* * *

AN:So that was chapter two, sorry if things are a little slow at the moment but they will pick up in the next chapter for sure. Please leave a review so I know what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong, that way I can improve it :)

I'll update somtime this week (:

Ps- (In regards to Sanji's appearance) Yeah, he probably sounds OOC with his clothing but it's just how all Shinigami dress in Purgatory. He will change outfit every few chapters though varying from suits to just jeans, but all with be rather Gothic in style- he is a death god after all :3


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